Although the lawyer had understood intellectually that a person such as Kitty would always be searching for that indefinable something he had heard so much about, he had not accepted it emotionally because she was one of those godlike women who, on the surface of things at least, did their searching with their quims; and the lawyer was a creature whose emotional well-being required a regular dosage of the fluids manufactured by her quim.

You neo-sexists think only of yourselves, twisting women into this position and that, changing things around at a moment's notice, never caring that we might think things are perfectly all right as they are, and then when you finally shoot your wad, after pounding us until our quims are as sensitive as a wound, you figure everything's all over and you quit, just like that, regardless of whether or not your partner might find it satisfactory if we just lay there, with a man inside.